


A Trip Down Memory Lane

by OneOddKitteh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fatherly Bobby Singer, Fluff, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOddKitteh/pseuds/OneOddKitteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy kidfic, because everyone needs some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trip Down Memory Lane

"I'm going to murder you Dean!" Sam screeched.

Bobby heard a thump in the other room, Deans laughter and Sam's endless yelling nearly covering the sounds of running feet.

"Dean, boy, what the hell are you doing to your brother?" Bobby yelled from the kitchen.

He stuck his head around the door, egg flip in hand. Bobby's famous breakfast was the main bribing point he'd used to keep the boys at his house. John was on a serious hunt and hadn't wanted to get them involved. As little as Bobby thought of John's parenting, he still wouldn't risk his children around a shtriga. Not after the last time. The sight Bobby saw in his lounge was enough to making him stop dead, letting the bacon smoke in the pan.

"I'll cut your hair off in your sleep," Sammy howled as he chased a laughing Dean around the room.

Dean'd nearly fallen over several times he was laughing that hard, and it was easy to see why. Somehow, Sam had ended up inside his jacket, wrapped around him with his arms crossed over his chest and his sleeves tied around him several times. It was like watching a lunatic in a straght jacket chasing a lunatic who'd managed to escape his own. Bobby just looked on in shock for another second before a chuckle burst from his chest.

"Dean you idjit, what'd you do that for?" Bobby huffed his laughter as he turned back to stop everything burning.

There was another thump, followed by something hitting the ground that shook the house. He spun quickly. If those boys had broken something he'd wring their necks! He had to grin, however unwillingly. Dean was lying on the floor where he'd tried to vault over the couch, the back of the couch resting on his legs and tears leaking from his eyes as he laughed. Sam had obviously been right behind him and had hit the couch just as it began to tilt from Dean's weight. The result was a ridiculous pile up, Dean on the floor, the couch on Dean, and Sam, winded where he lay writhing on top of the couch. Sam's impressive threats were slowly dying down, his panting impeding his voice. Finally, he stopped struggling and kind of wiggled backwards off the couch, falling on his butt onto the floorboards.

"You're an ass," he muttered as he tried to get his arms out of the binding.

"You said that it was ok for me to practise tying knots that people couldn't get out of with your sleeves," Dean argued with a massive smirk on his face. "You never said I couldn't practise on you while you slept!"

Sam's btich face was impressive for a seven year old.

"That's a given, you jerk!"

"Bitch," Dean replied with a cocky grin.

He shuffled forward anyway, pulling at the knot till it came free. Sam yanked his arms through the sleeves, and punched his brother hard in the shoulder.

"Not a bad hit Sammy," Bobby commented from where he was leaning. "Dean, nice knot. Now both of you boys stop being such idjits, watch your language and pick up that couch before you eat."

They booked looked at him, faces bright and surprised from the praise. Both jumped to their feet and obeyed. Now if John Winchester pulled his head out of his ass and gave 'em praise when they needed it, he'd have a hellova lot easier job, Bobby thought to himself. He turned back to the food, glad the bacon hadn't burnt and the eggs weren't too over done.

There was a thud as the couch was resettled and then a string of swearwords that were _far_ too old for an eleven year old.

"Sam, you just dropped it on my foot!"

Bobby didn't know how the hell he was going to cope with another three weeks of this shit.


End file.
